The Lost
by Alias.u
Summary: A girl lost in the woods becomes mixed up in a world she knows nothing about, meeting a man haunted by ghostly apparitions & images of the past. A story delving into the lives of the Zelda world & the effects of fear on society with a gripping conclusion!
1. Chapter 1 Them

**The Lost**

**Chapter 1** – **Them**

_**The Girl**_

The late afternoon air hung dead all around. Thick nooses of vines and overgrown shrubbery littered every inch of the dense woodland. Sharp blades of sunlight pierced the heart of the foliage at regular intervals, not illuminating the area but bringing life to the shadows as heavy clouds toiled across the skies. Bark hung thick and brittle from the large buttresses and trunks of the once great goliaths that stood, frozen in time, entombed in their own environment. Never did a thing move or breathe. Never had the grass grew or died. Never did a creature stir from the undergrowth. Long had it been since feet had touched this soil, or the wind blew, or sound had been heard, and today was no different; save for the faint shuffle of rubber against dirt, and voice intruding in the silence.

She had passed this way every day on her way home, so what was the problem. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere to get so lost. She knew there should be a river, knew she should hear a river, see a river, but she could not. She also knew that her mum was going to murder her for being so late. In frustration she called a halt to the contingent of arms she dragged with her – her large backpack became a dead weight on her shoulders. The girl was the complete antithesis of her surroundings. Everything she possessed or wore was new, alive, loud. The rest was bleak, depressing and still.

"What the hell do I do now?" She asked no one in particular. Only now did she begin to notice the humidity of the forest she found herself in. There was no wind. This struck her as slightly odd – her home wasn't exactly known for its scorching temperatures and parched lands after all. Dismissing any notions of suspicion she removed her mobile phone from its holster on her jeans in an attempt to alert someone of her predicament but her screen simply beaconed the message, "No Signal", much to her aggravation and disappointment.

Swearing under her breath she replaced her phone and irritably pressed on. A breeze blew suddenly through the trees and swirled around her causing her to pause for a second. She was startled – though the breeze was welcomed it made her a little anxious and wary of her rear. Glancing into the trees she had came through she could see nothing. Shadows pranced violently on the crippled woodland like dancers on a stage. It only added to the tension of the situation. She couldn't imagine returning to that direction if she needed to pass through there.

Suddenly, she was jolted back to reality by the sweet melody of a gentle tune floating on the air. Another gust blew through the trees in front of her but this time she felt calmer, the gentle warming sensation actually relaxed her slightly.

"Where is that music coming from?" She inadvertently said aloud.

But as she spoke the song seemed to dart around her. The girl's curiosity got the better of her and she began to try to pursue it. She moved in the direction it came from as though she were chasing a friend through the bushes in fun, smiling slightly to herself as if she was about to catch it. She quickened her pace and began to run through the hanging vines and bushes. The plant-life appeared to grab at her – as though it were hungry for the life she brought to their wood. She found it harder to struggle through. Her leg got trapped on a root, her arm in a vine. The bushes scratched at her face. Turning round she pushed back at the clutching shrubbery, groaning as she did.

When she was free the girl turned to run again – almost forgetting what she was chasing. In her efforts she didn't notice the ground beneath her feet give way and she fell. She tumbled and rolled down a hill into a small ditch within a clearing and landed with a hard crack in a brittle pile of dead branches. Groaning in pain she let out a distressing sigh and gave in to the black.

It was the sound of the soft gentle music tenderly whispering in her ear that made the girl suddenly open her eyes. From where she was lying she could see the small clearing all around her. For an instant while she sat listening in the moment, the strange, unwelcoming woods seemed to come to life. What a beautiful place after all, she thought. It was as if the very air was moving. Sitting up her perception dimmed, her breathing became heavier and she gulped as she regarded the pile she landed in. She stood up very abruptly and saw what it really was. Underneath her was a pile of dry animal bones. From the shape of them, she could tell they were the remains of a large horse. Stumbling backwards, she fell into another collection of bones – roughly humanoid in appearance but abnormally large. Turning, they were littered all around here, a graveyard of all these lost souls, and her perfect image of this glade shattered.

Mortified, she turned and fled, her breathing picking up; thoughts of how those creatures could have died ran through her mind. Through tree – through bush, branches scratched at her face. Her light jacket caught, violently ripping off her body. Before she could retake possession of it from the forest, before the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach could take hold, the sound of the music once again stopped her. Dead. It was louder. Was it closer? She couldn't hear over her own breathing. Glancing around she realised she didn't know where she was. Where _was_ that river? Panic started well up from deep within. What was the time? How long had she been here? Where was here!

She grabbed her jacket and headed back the way she came, muttering, looking for something familiar. She quickened her pace. Her mind became frantic. She turned. Tree. She ran forward. Tree. Spun on her heels. Nothing familiar. The music had stopped. Where did it come from? _No_, she thought, _No time! Home!_ The forest seemed to spin around her; she staggered forward, looking for somewhere to go. She turned. Tree. She ran forward. Tree. She spun on her heels and was grabbed by two hands.

"What are you doing here?"

**_The Man_**

The soft gentle lullaby woke him steadily, as it had done every day. It filled him with the sadness he had felt ever morning of every day. The man clenched his eyes together to try to hold on to the feeling for just a moment longer. But it, and the music soon faded, as it had done every day, every day for who knows how long. The building he lay in was a small house, hardly even a cabin. The dull, dilapidated exterior reflected perfectly every square inch of the forest it resided in. The wood was brown and rotting on the log walls, the roof, thatched and crumbling through age and weather. The remains of many tools and hunting equipment lay strewn around the overgrown garden area. A bow hung on a single rusted nail, once beautiful with its ornate patterns along the wood, its quiver resting against the wall beside the front door, the leather lining worn away by time. A small hand crafted axe and a large knife – almost a small sword – lay cluttered along with a broken boomerang. All things left from a time long forgotten by man. In passing, one might think the dwelling had been completely abandoned, if not for the faint glow of a single oil lamp sitting on a small wooden table within the quarters. It glowed dimly casting shadows over everything, its dancing bringing the very walls to life. The room was quite large, square in shape and divided by a loose hanging sheet, which separated the sleeping quarters where the man lay from the rest of the room. The table sat across the room on the opposite side of the curtain, two wooden chairs keeping it company. A small window, thick with grime and dust was just above it, barely allowing any light through. On the opposite wall to the bed was a simple stone fireplace, whose flue stretched through the ceiling. Cold ashes lay in the hearth and soot blackened the inside walls. It hadn't been used in a long time. The door was on the opposing wall to the table and lay closed but unlocked. After all, who ever came here?

A small armchair was the only other piece of furniture left in the room, save for a small worn rug, and was angled facing the bed, just in front of the fireplace. However it was not the owner who inhabited this chair.

The man gazed up at the ceiling, eyes half shut and unblinking. He didn't have to look to know He was there.

"Don't you get tired?" He gave the question, breaking the silence. "Just sitting there?"

"Never," came the reply. The figure's voice was strong and deep, and all too familiar to the man. "There's never a dull moment around here. You always know how to make things interesting"

The man on the bed, his eyes tired and heavy, didn't move. He didn't even blink. He had been lying there for almost a week, after he had given in to exhaustion and depression, and simply would not move.

"Oh come now, don't be like that." The stranger spoke again, but his voice was different. He rose. So was his appearance. The figure that stood in front of the chair was now smaller. He was a boy, no older than ten or twelve years of age. His garb was entirely strange; he wore a green tunic that hung just above his bare knees. The fabric was rough and shabby, the stitching crude, as though woven together by an unprofessional hand. It was separated in two by a belt across the waist and a small shoulder harness. He had fair, dirty blond hair that was long and untidy and tucked under a long cap. The man on the bed knew this boy; everybody knew this boy. He shone of strength, courage, and conviction – all the things that were expected of him. It was only his eyes that gave him away to the man. They were the deepest purple he had ever seen and shone brightly yet darkly through even the darkest shadows in the room. The flames danced across his young features adding to the effect of his sinister eyes.

"You know I always enjoy spending time with you. You're better than any father I could ask for!" He snickered. "But you're right. You used to put up more of a fight. You've been lying there for ages. Get up! Take me out! I wanna play."

The Boy began to laugh now. He shook the man playfully. "Come on! You are making my job far too easy, you know. What happened to you? Where is that strength, that courage, that supreme sense of self that used to emanate from you?" The boy walked closer, and the man turned away in response, uttering a short grunt under his breath. The boy lowered his head in defeat. He sounded far less playful now and seemed to speak in a manner beyond his years.

"I guess that's what time will do to you isn't it." He leaned out to touch his shoulder, a gesture to which the man merely shuddered. "No one can resist me," his eyes saddened and dropped and he cocked his head to the side, as if he was no longer addressing anyone in the room. "You tried. Every god knows you tried. But you learned, didn't you?" He drew a breath. "They all learned."

The man on the bed resumed his position on his back. He looked at the boy, sizing him up and down. The mere image of him sickened him; it filled him with so much despair and regret that it almost brought a tear to his eye. His voice was stern, with slight anger, yet desperate also.

"Just go, get out!" His anger faltered as he spoke. "Please. Now, I…you've done what you wanted…just leave me alone!"

The boy's eyes widened. He was shocked and slightly impressed. He didn't expect a reaction like that, no matter how pitiful it sounded. The boy began to laugh. Suddenly a malicious sneer spread across his innocent features.

"Oh no. It's far from over!" The boy spun. He grew, became large again. His appearance shifted also, seeming to waver. Where he stood was a man, with straight medium length black hair, unruly styled atop his head. He wore long black trousers covered by a large, black leather tunic with a V styled band across the front. He was not old, nor was he young, his eyes shined a deep mauve and he had that same wicked sneer on his face. This man, unlike the boy, stood with great poise. He radiated of enormous strength and fearful, hateful intent, and spoke, addressing more than the room. "I'm not done with you yet," he returned to facing the man. "Don't even begin to think that." His voice suddenly softened, becoming facetiously comforting. "I know your tired but don't worry. The sooner you stop resisting, the easier it'll be on everyone."

He crouched in front of the bed, where the man's face became almost level to his, and tilted his head in alignment with the man's. "You wouldn't be showing weakness. The best of them haven't held on for this long. What are you hoping for?"

And the man rolled over to face the wall.

The girl allowed herself to relax and open her eyes. The shock of someone grabbing her caused that natural reaction for her to shut her eyes and tense up completely. But when she opened them to face the person her gaze met with nothing.

"Is uh, is s-someone th-there?" she asked the void. The reply was the deathly silence of the lifeless woodland. Not even a bird crowed or cricket chirped. The thought unnerved her. She was obviously not as alone as she thought. She couldn't have imagined that person, those hands on her arms, or that voice. But where was he?

The girl pushed passed a tree and through some vines which brought her into a large meadow. The forest was different here. No longer was it thick with trees and other decaying plant-life but the grass was green and four massive trees filled with obvious life and nourishment stretched upwards and outwards from the four compass points, shrouding the area. A small stump from an equally massive tree lay at rest in the centre of the clearing. The entire place was like a beautiful natural cathedral in the forest – a complete oxymoron to the surrounding woodland.

The girl crept slowly forward, awe inspired and taken aback by the sheer scale of it all. As she reached the stump she noticed a strange pattern etched on its surface. It was an upside down triangle, divided into three, in the centre of a large pentagram – a strange symbol at each of the five points. Glancing around she notice the four trees were also the victims of some rather strange vandalism. On one was a strange blue heart, painted crudely yet strikingly. To the west was a picture of another pentagram, inverted this time, which she did not like the look of. Opposite that was a simple black etching, a misshapen circle spread across the main diameter of the tree. And the final tree showed the image of a white face shape with black eyes, no mouth and a jester's hat. The image disturbed her – it was as if the eyes gazed through her, reading her for what she was – alone, lost and scared.

She turned around and noticed something on the opposite side of the place. Two stone tablets sat partially hidden on the tree line. She moved over to inspect them. She noticed a strange design on the face of one side. It was a strange looking eye carved delicately and perfectly upon the surface. They stood almost as tall as she and when she looked at the image she felt as though it were piercing into her very mind and soul, and it hypnotically drew her closer. She passed around behind and found that the opposite side was etched with strange runes and symbols – it looked to her like writing or a language of some sort – but none she could recognise. She slowly put her hand out to touch the rock and ran her hand along the surface. As she did, she felt a surge of energy flow through her. It was as if a thousand voices echoed in her head – as if a thousand secrets poured into her mind, but mere whispers – none of which she could fully comprehend. Suddenly the forest surged to life and a strong wind encircled her. She heard animals screech and voices cry out, and the markings on the two stones began to glow. To her amazement the carvings began to transform, changing into words she could actually read. The language was old styled and the syntax not as she was used to but at least it was English.

_All ye who wander here. Accursed men, they walk these woods; the_

_tortured, the damned and the not forgiven. Ne'er may you suffer that_

_unto which he has suffered. Only She will guide you through the_

_shadows as terror holds you in its grasp and shows itself upon you –_

_body and soul. For He will not forgive. For He cannot forgive. It is_

_said that all those not of the forest who walk these woods will become_

_a Stalfos. Do not linger. Do not become the lost…_

He was still crouching by the bed when the noises started. Birds fluttered and animals screeched, and voices filled the room. The man began to groan and fidget – he had heard these noises once before and they did not bring with them fond memories. But He just stood abruptly, fists clenched. As he glanced around slowly, gazing into what was almost the very fabric of the ghostly noises themselves. His face shifted from one of confusion to one of sudden understanding and realization. He knew what was happening – and He knew just where to go.

When the noises all stopped, and the forest was calm once more, the girl swallowed and allowed herself to breathe. Before she could even take in the meaning of any of the words, from behind her a voice said, "It is not wise for girls to be wandering these woods alone."


	2. Chapter 2 The Strangers

_**Chapter 2 –**_

**_The Strangers_**

"I can't thank you enough," the girl called to the stranger in front of her. "I seem to have just gotten myself lost and it felt like I'd never get out of here."

The man who discovered her led her through the trees in silence. He had taken her from the clearing and to this smaller pathway and continued onwards, promising a way out of this endless maze of trees. But he did not reply to her. Night was beginning to fall and the sun was setting behind them as they walked. Feeling the need she cleared her throat and continued.

"Umm, is it far to go 'cause I really gotta get out of here or my mum…?"

"Go?" The man interrupted, stopping abruptly. He looked at her. She looked at him more clearly now in the fading light – as if the shadows brought forth more of a persons persona than the light. In this place the light was deceptive; light shone into everything it could, not exposing but blinding one to the truth that was there. In the darkness it seemed nothing could hide. That logic seemed strange to her. Doesn't a person use a light, a torch; to guide their way through the dark and reveal the place they're in? This place, she decided, this place just freaked her out.

He was an older man with greying hair that was combed rather neatly and presentable, though thin white stubble covered his chin. He wore casual trousers and an old flannel shirt and worn out hiking boots. He reminded her of an old teacher, retired perhaps, who had left his career to pursue a life of hunting and fishing and anything that wasn't what he did. His features were relaxed and soft, seemingly warm as he gazed at her, and his eyes were the most dazzling she had ever seen. He bore into her a great lilac stare, she could not read what he meant with his eyes, his expression, but it mesmerised her.

"I'm afraid we can't have you going anywhere." He stated flatly. She didn't understand. She followed this man under the impression he would lead her safely to the exit.

"I mean, not tonight at least." He explained. "We have quite a bit to go and this place isn't exactly very safe at night." Again she was confused. She had walked there for hours and not a soul had emerged, until him at least. What was there to be afraid of? Still, she didn't exactly want to wander through this place in the darkness, and it was coming in fast. Before she could question him however, he placed his hand on her shoulder and led her around a tree. And sure enough there seemed to be a larger, main path, like he had promised.

"I have to go now, but if you go through there", he pointed into the darkening woods, "you'll find an old hut where you can spend the night."

The man seemed to grow edgy. He quickened the pace of his voice as he spoke and he glanced around, almost trying to hide as he encouraged the girl. She tried to speak – to protest – to ask him what was going on but he simply nudged her forward and spoke over her stuttering.

"Go hurry, there's no time just go. There's an old woman that lives there, tell her I sent you. She'll help you tomorrow. I have to go…"

And with that she was alone again. She just stood there for a minute shocked and confused. She muttered to herself: "What the ffff…", sighed and pushed onwards.

She moved to the direction he pointed, and could see some vague pile of timber that bore some semblance of a hut or a cabin in the trees.

"This is getting way too 'Blair Witch' for me," she muttered shaking her head, "'Tell her I sent you'… would help if you told me who the hell you are."

She approached the door of the shack and gently knocked. There was no window she could look in and she heard nothing from the other side. After knocking a second time she pushed the door slowly open. Before her was a small living room containing various chairs with a small stove in the corner. It glowed dimly red through the grating where the wood embers remained. Obviously it had not been long extinguished. There was a door straight ahead on the opposite wall, which she guessed led to a bedroom or drawing room of some sort. It wasn't exactly wide but apparently it was long. Wondering if the house was occupied she called out.

"Uhhh…hello?" She waited for a reply. Receiving none she pushed into the room. "Uhhh, is anyone here? The door was open so I just came in. I hope you don't mind, this guy sent me here – said it would be…"

Just then an elderly woman emerged from the door ahead and stared at the girl.

"…Okay."

"Do you remember it?"

The voice startled the man. He thought he was alone. He should have known better but it was just that you never did get used to someone being there one minute and gone the next. Night had fallen and cast its shadowy veil across the forest. The only sound was that of the small fire in the fireplace, to which the man sat with his back to at the table. It also, along with the small lamp, was the only source of light in the room, giving it an uncharacteristically warm glow. He would spend many evenings staring at the lamp. The flame's dancing and rhythm comforted him. Its life almost made him remember what it was like to live, and to feel.

The man turned his head as he heard the voice and the figure turned his gaze to meet his. His façade slightly startled the man as much as hearing the voice did, but only enough to warrant a kneading of his brow before he turned back to the flame. It had been a long time since he had seen that face. The figure was of the physical appearance of around nineteen years and stood almost about six foot. He had medium length brown hair and wore the strangest apparel. The Boy leaned against the wall at the window beside the door gazing out.

"Your first time, I mean. Here. In these woods?" He glanced back out the window. "Oh God, I remember mine…" He shuddered then gently chuckled to himself. "Yeah it took you a long time to drag me through here. Even to there to that place and even with her there. You know I'm surprised it was so easy for you… You can just feel it though cant you, man? It's unnatural!"

He pushed off from the wall. "Though when you think about it…there's nothing really strange about this place is there. I mean come on there's the trees, the bugs, and all those sickeningly cute fluffy things. The endless green and brown." He took a seat opposite the man and shifted around slightly, making himself comfortable. He laughed, "I mean apart from the odd giant troll, talking tree…and me…what's weird?" He smirked but the man just raised an eyebrow. The Boy looked passed him and narrowed his eyes at the fireplace. "You lit a fire…" He bit his lip and shook off the thought while the man smiled gently to himself. The Boy pushed his question, leaning forward. "So do you _remember_ it?"

The man thought back, and breathed deeply. Of course he remembered it. He had remembered every detail of his godforsaken life. The hut melted away to his eyes. It merged with his mind like a dye in water, so that his thoughts and vision became hazy and mixed together. He could not close his eyes to it and he could not block out the sound, much as he had tried. So he simply gazed downwards toward the table. The Boy arose and walked behind the man, and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Across from them they watched a little boy. He had short dirty blond hair and wore a little blue shirt and orange-brown trousers. His eyes were wide as he pushed his way through the trees. He looked unnaturally small against the great oaks at his measly three feet. He had thought himself brave venturing into where so many had tried to steer him clear of. 'There are too many bad things there', people had claimed but his curiosity grew with each and every warning. But now the boy froze as he heard a rustling all around him. His imagination threw into overdrive and his eyes darted around. He backed into a tree as he moved, trying to avoid whatever beast he had inadvertently disturbed. In his frantic grasping and fumbling he fell beside the very bushes he was trying to avoid. His hand felt the grass until it came to rest on a large dead branch about the size of his arm. He clutched it close in two hands and lay gazing over the bush. He screamed as the beast reared up, arising on two legs, with its front two clawing at the air. He had never seen anything like it. It was massive to him with a snorting snout and an unnatural amount of horns on its relatively small head. It appeared to dart straight for him and he shut his eyes and raised the club. It connected with its hind leg causing it to sprawl across the green. Before he knew what came over him he was on his feet and rushing toward it. In a mix of fear and panic and anger he swung. It let out a mighty groan as red mixed with green and blue and hair and wood. And the boy fell to the ground shaking and sobbing. And the woods lay still. As still as the stag.

His sobbing could still be heard. His head lay in his hands and he was on his knees leaning forward. Slowly, gently, but inevitably, tree became wall, grass became timber – and his world returned to his eyes.

He raised his head from his hands and slowly looked around. Behind him his visitor stood, gazing down at him – His expression soft, as though he had wished to comfort him, as though he was waiting for him to finish. Then he smiled softly and crouched beside him.

"It's alright, you know." The man sat up on his knees, gently sighed, and then looked at the Boy - his tired eyes sad and pleading. "What could you do? You were a child. You did what all children do. You didn't listen to what you were told, to people who knew better than you and you did as you pleased."

The man leant against the small armchair and pulled himself into it.

"And you're sad about it. And you regret it, don't you?" The man nodded his response discreetly. The Boy stood again to his full height and smiled down upon the man.

"But you're not really are you?" The man looked away in disgust. He couldn't look the Boy in the face, because he knew he spoke the truth.

"You don't really regret what you did. Because it felt good: disobeying your elders and coming here. Being out on your own and doing as you pleased felt good."

The man simply looked down.

"_That_ is what you feel guilty about – _that_ is what you regret. You feel guilty because you don't feel guilty. Oh, such a great internal dilemma; such a great conundrum. Here, a creature lost its life," His voice began to turn spiteful, almost nasty, "and you, really weren't that bothered."

"Stop it!" The man said to his knees before looking up. "Stop it. Shut up!" He couldn't understand why He was making him remember this.

The Boy chuckled and continued anyway, feigning a concerned voice. "Aww, what's the matter, too much for you all this remembering?" He walked behind the chair and leant on the back, so that He was almost level with the top of his head. "You know you really shouldn't regret it. It's always like that – the first time. Then, like now, you went in with the innocence of a child. So do many others… It's what we're forced to do. They wont teach you, wont take you by the hand and show you – for there's nothing they _can_ show you. People are like that, with the unfamiliar. It's a lusting; a great, surging curiosity that blinds your perception. You _must_ discover it."

The Boy smiled, changed and grew. His appearance wavered again and he became the man that was with him before. His strange t-shirt became the black V-shaped tunic and his denim trousers blackened.

"_You _were in the unfamiliar. Don't you remember how your imagination listens to the lies the world likes to tell it, and not the truth your brain is so desperately screaming to you?" He moved around and sat on the arm and put His hand on the man's shoulders. "People will always fear what they don't understand, what is new and unusual. They are weak that way. It is easier to give in to hate, to anger, to fear, to _me_… than to feel anything like compassion and understanding, which would so strengthen you all. It told you that day that what you were facing was a beast rearing up to attack. When in reality… it was a deer, just as startled as you were. Why do you think my job is so easy?" He laughed again. "You felt it! You gave into it and you felt powerful. It's what people do. Thats what makes you all so _Human._"

He stood again abruptly and turned after a few steps. "So it didn't end up all sunshine and butterflies – there was no 'happily ever after' moment – who needs it. Why should we do as people tell us? Its claims of 'Here be monsters' that stop people from venturing forth. You'll need to remember that, boy – the firsts, the lasts, and the unfamiliar territory. Strangers show no mercy to the unfamiliar. I wonder what its like for others. _You_ know what lurks out there. But do they?" And he was gone.

"There you go now." The old woman handed the girl a cup filed with what she hoped was tea. "That'll warm you right up."

The old woman planted herself next to her and smiled. "It's not the best stuff but good tea is hard to come by out here. I remember when I would drink nothing but the finest things with the cream of society." She enjoyed a slight chuckle to herself. "This china belonged to the princess herself, I'll have you know."

"Wow...a princess?" The girl echoed, trying to feign interest to be polite.

"Oh yes...but things were different then. Things were..." The old woman's voice trailed off as she gazed into her own memories and had a sip of her tea. "But nevermind all this nonsense about tea! Tell me, why have you been traipsing along out there for the past few hours. This is no place for a young girl."

The girl took a drink and placed the cup on the table in front of them. "Oh I, uh, well I umm I dunno really I was walking home, I guess, and..." She couldn't find the words. She didn't understand the slightest bit of what was going on here. "I didn't do anything. I went the same way I always do. But then I'm here and...there are dead things out there by the way!"

The old woman just looked down into her cup. "Oh yes, those poor animals. A shame that is. However did you stray onto them, dear? We don't like to go down that way?"

"Yeah, so what actually happ-" She started.

"You know, you must think me terribly rude!" The old woman interrupted, putting her cup down. "I never even asked your name!"

"Oh!" The girl let out, she didn't even realise. "It's, uh, it's Amy." The old woman leaned forward and took her hands. They felt bony and cold in her grasp.

"Well Amy, call me Mae." She smiled. "Only old Alex, who brought you there, calls me Maevara, 'cause he's too stubborn to change his mind."

It started raining then. They heard the patter of the raindrops above them and they glanced at the ceiling. "Looks like you made it here just in time," Mae quipped, "finish your tea there and we'll get you somewhere to sleep tonight. You're not going anywhere in that!"

The man was confused. He stood by the window looking at the raindrops. He had recovered from the events earlier but had begun to think about them. The Boy's visit had been intended, not that the other times He had visited the man were random, but there seemed to be a specific reason He had said what He did.

Shadows in the woods danced through the trees. They were flitting but he knew they were there, lurking, shifting. Things he hadn't had the strength to face in a long time. That was mostly why he spent the majority of his time in bed - where they could not reach him. The wind seemed to howl. It carried on it the voices of a thousand souls - whispering, pleading, praying - being ultimately lost in the night. It no longer made him shudder.

Their stirring however made him remember when he first got here. Not the images the Boy had shown him but of the time when he first found himself in the woods with no way out. How he _had_ shuddered; how he _was_ oblivious to what lurked there; how merciless the nights had been to him. It certainly made him wonder why the Boy had shown those images to him and brought back these thoughts, when everything else he had been shown had simply been to provoke reactions.

And then he wonderend why He had taken the form he did. For what purpose did He stir _these_ memories.

The rain wasn't letting up.

The rain wasn't letting up. She stood by the window watching the raindrops as Mae was busying herself making a bed out of sheets for the girl. She hated it. She didn't feel comfortable in this house and something about the old woman creeped her out. She put that down to simply old people being creepy in general but she still wished she could let her mum know where she was. Still, she was glad she wasn't out there, especially when she saw how eerie the woods looked at night. The wind sent shivers up her spine and shadows seemed to dance among the trees and bushes. How could anyone live in a place like this? She hugged herself, feeling the cold.

The sound of the old woman's voice made her jump. "There we are now. You get some sleep now and tomorrow we'll see about getting you home."

"Thank you." Amy said, smiling at her host.

"If you need anything, I'm through the back here. There's a well in there with some water if you want." She pointed out the two doors leading off to her bedroom and the makeshift kitchenette. "I'll leave the stove burning there to give you some warmth, its a nasty one out there tonight."

As Mae headed off wishing her goodnight, Amy wrapped herself up tightly on the old couch and let the exhaustion overwhelm her.

She woke gently, the sound of Mae in the other room filling the cabin. She thought she could hear her talking but as she dragged herself towards the door and knocked it became clear she must have been singing. "Come in giiirl", the old woman's voice sang. "How did we sleep? I'm sorry that old chair is for the rubbish."

"No, no it was fine thanks." Amy looked around the small kitchen area. There were a few cupboards, a large sink with a pump above it and a small table in the corner. She hadn't seen this part of the cabin when she first arrived and the house seemed bigger than it looked from the outside.

"Come on now eat, then we'll get you on your way." Mae said and ushered the girl to the table and the bowl that was waiting for her

After breakfast Amy walked along the rest of the path that old Alex had put her on. The old woman had told her she could find the way out if she just kept going. Two large trees in front of her seemed to grasp on to each other and create a sort of archway throught the rest of the forest. When she passed through, she thought she heard the music again and it made her stop and concentrate. The sound she heard now though was different, like a penny whistle or small flute, and seemed to be coming from her left ahead of her.

The edge of the path seemed to give way down a rather steep hill into a small enclosed area. In this area were three tree stumps rising up like stairs next to each other. There was a small pond next to the largest of them and a young man was sitting on the top of the stump, playing the instrument she heard. The man was bald, pale skinned and looked particularly thin. He wore a pair of blue trousers and a white top and seemed oblivious to her approach.

"Hello?" Amy tried warily, hoping he could help her but she was still unsure of anyone she met here.

The man jumped to his feet on top of the stump almost instantly, he seemed frightened. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I mean I wasn't playing it I just was...well it was here and I was just, I like it so much it makes me...I wasn't doing anyone any wrong, I..." He stopped suddenly, looking at her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Amy started.

"Who...who are you?" The man asked.


	3. Chapter 3 Of Hope

**_Chapter 3 – Of Hope_**

Old Mae was cleaning up the remains of breakfast when he entered the room behind her.

"Where is she?" He asked. Mae nearly dropped the plate she was holding.

"By the gods, Alexander, you scared the hell out of me!" She replied. "Don't worry, she'll be fine. I sent her along the road there. She thinks it will lead her out."

"But what if He gets to her?" Alex asked, nearly panicking at the thought. He grabbed a spoon off the table and began waving it anxiously.

"_Don't_ worry. I told you I sent her off down that road there. She'll bump into Grogand he'll keep her busy for a while." Mae calmly continued to wash the dishes. Her old friend however still seemed a little anxious.

"Good. Good, good." He pulled open the door behind him but paused before leaving. "How do you suppose she got here anyway?"

"Good question...maybe she knows something. Or perhaps she really did just stumble into this mess, like she said." The old woman paused and thought about it for a moment. "Either way, something has happened..."

"Yeah," agreed Alex. "If she can get in then maybe..."

"Precisely," Mae interrupted, "Now go find them. She should have found Grog by now and we need to make sure he doesn't scare her off. She just might be our last shot at getting out of here."

Alex glanced around nervously and made for the door.

"Oh Alexander," Mae called. Turning, he re-entered the room and she beckoned for the spoon. He muttered an "oh" and handed it back to her. She began to laugh gently as he hurried away.

She continued rubbing away at the dishes as the room grew silent again. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably as a draught blew across her neck. Her breathing seemed to become more pronounced until she found it hard to catch her breath at all. Stopping, she leaned on the sink for support, the spoon still in her hand. It felt warm to her and not from the water. Watching it, she let out a wheezy laugh as it disappeared in a swirl of black. Rubbing her fingers into the palm of her hand as if making sure it were really gone, she turned her head to the right to glance behind. The draught blew across her neck again, brushing her hair across her face.

"I thought you were..." The boy started, "He doesn't like it when I...when I play." He jumped down and sat down again at the foot of the stump. He seemed a rather sullen person to Amy.

"Who doesn't?" She asked. He ignored her and asked her who she was again. She explained how she had come to be here and of the people who had helped her.

"You've seen the others?" He perked up a little when he heard this news. "We haven't seen a new face around here since..." He seemed reluctant to finish. Everyone here seemed to be reluctant to say a lot of things. "Well in a long time anyway."

"Well, I really don't plan on sticking around to be honest." Amy said. "I'm just kinda lost here."

"Aren't we all..." he replied.

The man woke up as he did the day before, the sound of the music leading him out to the silence of the room. He listened for it playing, but still, it was only a part of his dreams. The calmness it brought him lessened as he felt His presence once more. He glanced over at the armchair and sure enough, there He was.

"I really need to burn that chair." The man stated flatly and He laughed gently.

"It's refreshing to see that you've regained your sense of humour." He smirked, and leaned forward into the light.

"You need to change your clothes." He was referring to the form his oppressor took, the same one he used against him last night.

"Well, it seemed to have such a profound effect on you that I thought I'd try it again. Just think what this image conjures up in your mind." The man had to look away. He was right. Though he tried to hide the fact that His form made him uncomfortable, he couldn't look at him without feeling that twinge of pain. He knew the face, all too well. But as with most of them, he couldn't quite remember why. Memories had become a hard thing to grasp for a very long time. It always felt to him like when a name or a word is on the tip of your tongue. You know what you should be feeling, or saying, but couldn't quite give it substance. Still, even the ghosts of the shadows of the memories were painful.

His old friend continued his train of thought. "Do you know what _he_ remembers? Do you know the things _he_ knows...?"

The man was feeling strangely defiant today. "Isn't it a little early to be getting straight to the point? Don't we usually dance around some seemingly unrelated subject _before_ you go for the kill? Honestly you are usually more subtle."

The Boy leaned back in the chair and smirked. "Don't you know me just too well? Can I help it if I am feeling oddly direct this morning?" He sighed. "Very well then, you see that rain last night? What was that about? And the wind! Wooo, certainly had me creeped out."

"It certainly is a lot livelier around here." The man agreed.

His voice grew more and more facetious. "If one isn't careful they could do themselves a nasty turn!" The man rolled his eyes and looked away. "Oh now you don't wanna play? Shame…I remember when you did!" He sprung to his feet, finger pointing upwards. "You know, talking of remembering…" He paused, wrinkled up his nose in a cheeky grin and looked down at the man. "Subtle enough for you?"

He suddenly stopped. Dropping the mockery, He turned away from the man and let his head droop to the floor. "I remember you had my back once." That got the man's attention, but he still didn't look. "You remember when I got caught that time? You told me I was stupid to go, the people didn't need me to be a hero…you told me I was on my own and that you had to pick your battles. You were so pissed off at me but I went anyway, remember?

"He paraded me in front of them, tried to show me how easily he could break people, even the strongest of….even …." He stopped and took a breath before continuing.

The man looked at the image of his old friend and he felt his memories of that time come back. He remembered how it had been for him. He remembered how he had respected his decision despite telling him not to go. The man didn't feel the slightest bit of regret for that day and actually felt comforted by what he was being allowed to feel. The Boy continued. "Even someone he had once called son."

The man sat up. He let the words come out, as the memories came with them. "That was the first time I had seen him – since I was a boy, I mean. I'll never forget his face. It was the first time he had seen me as well. Felt me." The man looked into the face of his friend and, for a moment, they were children again. They shared a smile.

Turning away again The Boy continued. "You came and got me. Shot an arrow right through his hand, right at the last second. I thought it was over but you had my back. I remember. You gave us all hope."

Just as he was beginning to smile at the thoughts returning to him, The Boy turned his head sharply towards him. All the warmth he had just felt left him instantly as His dark, purple eyes bore into his mind, and he knew what was coming. He swallowed hard and looked away.

"And you know what else I remember?" He turned and faced him full on. "I remember women crying in the dirt, their children ripped from their arms! I remember the stench of burning flesh. I remember people dying, in agony, screaming your name! I remember fighting…alone, in the dark, my best friend nowhere to be found until…"

The man looked up and gaped in horror at what was happening. The Boy was looking at his hands, they were bloody and dirty. His skin was paler and his eyes seemed sunken and drawn.

"Do you know how I died?" He took a step towards him and the man recoiled on the bed. His stomach started to bleed and His hands shook around the wound. As sounds of the battle filled the house a sword came thrusting though His stomach from nowhere and no one, causing Him to cry out. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of His mouth as He spoke. "We fought for so long…" He stumbled forward again and went to His knees by the bed. The man grasped at the wall in horror, crying. "We tried but…you just, there was no…no hope…" The Boy looked up at no one for a brief moment then threw His head back. Blood stained His neck as He was cut. He nodded forward slightly, wavering, His hands covered in blood. "When he was done with me, the princess was defenceless…" Suddenly He was over at the other side of the bed, still on his knees, the wall and forest vanished and a shadow holding Him. "He dragged me…made me watch as they…" He seemed to struggle against it as the man now saw a girl lying bruised, bloody and torn. He let out a moan as he saw her.

Next, He was on the foot of the bed leaning over the man "Things that should not be done to a girl…where were you?" His Friend gasped for air, choking on the blood. "Where were…?"

Suddenly His neck snapped to one side and He was gone, the only sound left in the empty room the gasps of the man's sobbing.

Amy listened intently as the young man she had met played her a soft tune. The melody made her smile and she could see how playing relaxed him slightly from his otherwise anxious demeanour. He was reluctant to talk to her and had been even less willing to play but she managed to coax him into it. She hoped if he could see that she appreciated it he might be more helpful to her.

The last note hung in the air, flawless and clear. It seemed to warm the very air around them and the sun shone brightly where they sat. He opened his eyes and smiled a bashful smile. Amy smiled back kindly and mouthed a quiet 'thank you'. She didn't want to disrupt the atmosphere with any noise.

"I wrote that for my sister," he explained, "she was the only one who liked to listen to me play; the only one that would _let_ me play."

"Why would anyone want to stop you? It was awesome."

He looked at the ground, thoughtfully. "Oh it was such a long time ago. Don't suppose it matters much now. She did like me to play. Anju, she was called."

"And what did they call you?" Amy asked.

He seemed disappointed. "Me, they called Grog. Though I don't suppose it's what my mother called me. Who knows, eh?" He chuckled for a brief second then returned to his glazed, thoughtful expression.

The idea puzzled her. She couldn't imagine not knowing her own name. "Well I'm Amy."

The sun seemed to vanish then. Amy looked up; clouds must have gathered overhead she assumed – it was raining last night. _I hope it doesn't start again._

Grog noticed the declining light as well it seemed. He looked up then around and quickly got to his feet. All he could say was "Oh no".

Just as Amy began to ask if he were okay, Grog practically threw the flute at her. "This was a bad idea. You should go," he said, but he was the one leaving. Amy was beginning to get a little worried at his behaviour. He didn't seem stable to her, and it was all she could do not to flee as well. But a part of her felt sorry for him, not to mention he was the only person there who could help her get home. "Wait, what is it?" She called after him, "stop!" He seemed to hesitate for a second but then he started toward the slope that would lead him out. It was only when she called again that he finally halted. "It's okay!" She yelled, "It's alright."

"It's alright?" He turned to look at her

"Yes, nothings wrong. See, it's just the rain."

"I didn't do anything wrong?"

"No." Amy insisted.

"You liked my music?" He lifted his hands and turned his palms upward so she took them and gave them a squeeze.

"Yeah I did. It was really good!" She smiled and held his gaze for a few moments.

"Very pretty…" He looked at her very intensely. She didn't know what to say to that. It made her feel uneasy; wondering what was going through his head. She felt a draught around the back of her neck and shifted uncomfortably, dropping his hands.

"Shouldn't be in a place like this…" Grog continued. Amy snapped to attention then. That was what she wanted to hear. But she was unsure as to whether or not she was getting anywhere with him or even if he could he lead her out? He turned away from her and looked up the hill. She followed his gaze but didn't say anything. She couldn't push him; he was likely to go crazy again. He seemed disappointed. "I don't _know_ the way out."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. It also seemed illogical to Amy. "But you must have left before. You got in didn't you?" She suggested. She tried to look at his face but he was too tall for her to gaze round.

"Whenever I tried to leave I'd always end up back where I started." Grog stated flatly. Yet, he seemed to ponder it for a while before turning to face her. He stared thoughtfully at the trees behind her before resting his eyes on her and smiling.

"I know how we can get out." He said.


	4. Chapter 4 Of Truth

**_Chapter 4 – Of Truth_**

The man flew from the house. He let the door slam against the wall and fell onto his knees. He was still gasping for air and trembling at the images he had just seen. He never knew, never could have believed. He threw up until he choked for air and staggered to his feet. He needed to clear his head. He walked until the sky began to glow red with the setting sun. He almost didn't care that he be stuck out at night. He still had those images in his head. He wanted to forget them but couldn't go back in there without seeing it all over again. He headed for a small pool that he knew was near that, although not very wide, ran deep under the forest. Splashing water on his face he looked at his reflection and didn't recognise the man looking back. Feeling the rough stubble and the lines over his face he gazed at his hands. He had never felt so old in his life. He couldn't have looked older than a man in his fifties, but he had lost count of the actual years there. His cheeks sagged and his eyes were baggy and tired. His chin hung down where it was once defined and strong. His hair was shaggy and unruly, grey and white; he had hacked it off some time ago and couldn't even remember what it looked like or what colour it had been.

Standing he decided to head back. When he turned round there was a girl standing in front of him. He tensed. He hadn't seen her in a while but he knew her none the less. She had a cheeky grin, chubby cheeks and wore the bizarre costume of a jester.

"Well aren't you a sight?" She teased. He pushed forward and passed by her without a word. "What's a matter? You look like you just seen a ghost or something. Need some cheering up?" She giggled to herself. She hopped along after him and jumped into the path in front of him. "We don't normally see you out and about so late."

The man couldn't be bothered with Her in all honesty. She drove him insane at the best of times and that was usually Her plan. He was about to turn around and take a different route when he paused. "And I haven't seen you in _years_." Something wasn't right with that to begin with, but he couldn't say what.

She just beamed at him with her black and red lips and white made-up face. "So I thought I'd pay you a visit. But it gets scary out here at night. Shouldn't we go back?" The man simply stared inquisitively at Her.

"No," he eventually said. "_I_ should go back. You can stay here and rot for all I care."

"I forgot how charming you were. Lost your sense of humour with those dashing good looks did you?" The Girl taunted. It seemed She knew exactly what he had been thinking at the pool.

"I have you to thank for that." He pushed on ahead.

"Want it back?" She tried.

"Keep it!" He called back. "Use it to laugh yourself silly while they tear your face off."

Then She was in front of him, arms folded like a pouting teenager. "Now hold on a minute." She waved Her little wand She carried at him. "If you think I'm going to let you go home after talking to me like that; after I came to make you happy again. Well forget it buster!"

"As if you could stop me." He pushed by Her, She barely came up to his shoulder and made a show of falling over as he brushed by. After a few steps he stopped. The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon. The place glared in the twilight. _Wait a minute_. "You _could_ stop me…" He turned to face Her and She did the same on Her bottom. She had the cheekiest grin ever.

"Who me?"

"Quite easily…" He continued. "What are you…?"

"Playing at?" Her expression changed to a sinister one. It surprised him how close those two were. "Nothing." She let out a cackle and rolled onto Her back, legs in the air. As She was rolling onto Her feet, She continued upward and flew into the tree. "Stay out longer though and I have some friends who will want to play cat and mouse with you."

"What's going on here?" He pressed. Things had been grating at him more and more, niggling at the back of his mind. He had let himself forget it: the woods whispering and shifting at night, the strange noises that came rushing through his house yesterday, his sudden boldness. All had been pushed out of his mind with the things he had been shown in the past day yet now, as he stood looking at his former tormentor; it all seemed even more deliberate. The Jester hadn't shown herself since he was first here.

"I'm not telling." She snubbed. He shrugged and simply started walking; heading back the direction he came. "Where are you going?" She jumped down from the tree and shouted in protest but the man simply ignored Her. He didn't notice it at first but She seemed to want him to return home. On top of that she had blocked his path back where She had first appeared. He had assumed it was just Her playfully getting in his way but now he wanted to know why.

When he pushed through the foliage he recognised where he was. With a quick, nervous glance to the sky he gazed down at the bones of the dead wolf on his right. Looking over he saw more, human and animal alike. He approached the horse that had been lying at the bottom of the hill beneath a tree for years and noticed the ribs had been broken. The same had happened to the bones of the man across from it. It didn't look like the work of any desecration but that something had fallen into them. Glancing amongst the pile he saw something strange. It looked to be a bag of some kind but when he examined it closely it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Strange metal teeth held it clamped shut and it had the strangest writing on it. He didn't understand the shapes of what he assumed were characters of a language. There were two straps at the back that seemed completely useless for carrying. He found they adjusted in size when he pulled the short part, with a surprised expression. The bag both baffled him and amazed him at once.

A voice called down from above him. "Okay so you busted me."

"What is this?"

"No idea." The Jester said.

"Where did it come from?"

"Again, no idea. But I'd certainly worry about the owner, wherever they may be." There was threat in Her voice. "Oh would you look at the time. Getting late isn't it? Gotta go; places to go, people to see…mice to chase." She smirked, jingled the bells on her little wand and was gone. The man looked around. He was a good distance from his home, and night was beginning to fall.

"Wait!" Amy called from behind him. "I remember this place."

They had walked until sunset. When she explained what had happened to her before she met Alex, Grog had led her to where she had come from. He knew she might be resistant to coming back to a place like this, he didn't want to come here himself, but it was the only way he could find out if there was any hope of getting out.

"I don't want to go this way. Cant we just go around?" She crept up behind him nervously.

He gazed at the animal bones littered around him and shot a nervous glance at the sky. "We just got to go this way. We gotta get back to where you came from." She started to protest but he interrupted her. He needed to get her to where she came from. If she could get in somewhere past here she could get out. He only hoped he could find just where she had entered. "Look, there is no round. We just gotta get up there, okay!"

"Now Grog is that any way to talk to our guest?" A voice floated in from behind them. He saw Amy jump and curse under her breath. He looked back and saw Mae standing beside a tree.

"Sorry." He said, lowering his head.

"That's more like it. Hope you two are getting along." She said. She never came closer.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Another voice asked from his left. This time Grog jumped as well as Amy. Alex stood in the trees too.

"God, what is it with you pe-" Amy started before biting her tongue. "Mae, can't you take me out of here. I don't like it in there."

"Quite right." She shot a glance at Grog. He could feel her inquisitive stare. He didn't want her to ask. He couldn't lie to her. "Not a place to bring a lady. Makes you wonder what's going through your lil head there boy." She came over and rubbed the back of his head, laughing gently. He liked it when she did that.

"What are you doing here?" Alex repeated. "It's getting dark."

Grog looked up at him. "It doesn't matter. We can get out."

Maevara grabbed his cheeks and gazed into his eyes. "Yes we can." She shot a look at Alexander, and then looked back into his eyes. "You know what to do?"

He did. He knew exactly what he was to do. He remembered everything he had been told.

_When the sun disappeared Grog knew what was happening. He had to get away from her or He would punish him. He threw her the flute. _He'll think she was playing it not me. _The thoughts were running through his head. He had to get her to leave. No, he had to leave; he had to get away from her. It was bad, he was bad._

_She shouted at him to stop. "Wait, what is it? Stop!"_

_He hesitated. He didn't want to leave her but if they were found together…he didn't want to think about it. He pushed on,_ got to get up the hill, got to get up the hill…

_The girl was still calling to him. "It's okay!"_

"_It's alright." A voice behind him said;_ that _made him stop._

_He turned to face it. "It's alright?"_

_The man in the V-tunic smiled and gave him a slight nod. The girl was trying to calm him. "Yes, nothings wrong. See, it's just the rain."_

"_You're alright, you didn't do anything wrong." The man added._

"_I didn't do anything wrong?"_

"_No." Amy insisted._

_The Man stepped in between Grog and Amy. He lifted his arms up and turned his wrists so his palms were facing upwards. "You did good," He reassured him. "I liked your music." He stepped away from him and moved beside the two._

"_You liked my music?"_

"_Yeah I did. It was really good!" She took his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze._

_The Man stepped in behind Amy. He eyed her up and down and got in close to her neck. He ran his hand along her shoulder and down her arm. He looked up. "So very pretty, isn't she?"_

"_Very pretty…" Grog agreed. Amy let go of his hands and shifted uncomfortably._

"_Shouldn't be in a place like this, should she?" The Man said._

"_Shouldn't be in a place like this…"_

_The Man stood up straight again. "Be a good boy then and…" he winked at him, "show her the way out."_

_Grog turned and looked up the hill. "I don't_ know _the way out."_

"_Suuure you do," He insisted, walking up the stumps as He spoke. "Think about it. You've been all over this forest. You've walked and walked and what happened?"_

"_But you must have left before. You got in didn't you?" Amy suggested._

"_Whenever I tried to leave I'd always end up back where I started." Grog stated flatly._

"_Exactly," The Man stated, jumping off the large stump. Grog turned to look at Him. "So maybe," He began. He walked behind the girl again slowly, intently, stating each word clearly as he spoke. "Maybe, it's not what. Maybe it's _who_. Maybe the answer lies not in a person actions…" He let the end of the sentence trail off, letting Grog come to his own conclusions._

_It was so clear to him then. He smiled, and The Man in the V-style tunic smiled back._

Amy had had enough. She had just stood by and let them prattle on but now she was getting scared. And it made her angry. "What the hell are you people talking about?" Her voice was stern but she wavered. "Can _someone_ just please get me out of here."

"Oh sorry, dear." Mae laughed. "You must think us crazy." She took her arm and squeezed it reassuringly. "Grog's right, though. There is no other way. You need to come with us."

Amy looked into the forest. It did scare her a little. She remembered waking up in that pile of bones, a thought that would probably never leave her. But she took a deep breath and nodded to Mae.

The sun had set below the horizon. They took two steps down along the path when Mae stumbled a little. She clutched her chest, breathing heavily. A strong gust blew through the forest blowing leaves and dust around them. Amy held Mae tightly. "Are you okay?" Mae took a few deep breaths and composed herself. Grog took a step back, a look of terror in his eyes. Mae nodded that she was fine and kept on walking.

As they passed by more and more of the dead animals Amy forced herself to relax. They were dead, she told herself. They couldn't hurt her. It didn't help though that when the wind blew through them the loose ones clacked together with stones and other debris. She saw the horse she had fallen into and the man beside it and couldn't help but stare at them.

They stepped up a small hill into a darkened clearing that had but a few trees. The foliage looked black in the night and the shadows seemed to ride on the breeze as the moonlight danced through the canopy of leaves above. In any other place, at any other time it would be beautiful, but she wasn't in the mood for taking in the view.

"This is as far as we go." Alex said but Amy didn't understand. She looked around. There still seemed to be no signs of an exit. Mae let go of her and walked to the tree at the far right. Grog shuffled his feet but didn't look at her. Only Alex seemed to stare right at her.

"What?" She asked. "Why?"

"We're going to get out of here." That was his only answer.

"Well, yeah…" Amy looked at the three individually. She started to breathe a little faster. She didn't like the fierce look in his eyes. She moved a foot backwards, preparing to run. Before she could, however, Grog seemed to be behind her.

"You're the first person to come in here for a lifetime." He still didn't look at her. The wind blew and she heard the faint rustle of the leaves and clatter of the bones. It didn't help her mood.

"You don't know how long we've waited. Every day in itself is like a thousand years." Alex added. "You can run all you want. You only go where He wants you to."

"Who--" She started.

"We haven't been allowed to walk these woods for years." Mae said still facing away. "You don't know what it's like. Only at night: alone and damned. I can't stay that way." She turned now and looked at Amy. "Not now. Not now that I have lived again. "Her eyes shone brightly: purple and wide.

"You're going to help us get out of here." Alex said.

Amy was unnerved. "But how?" She demanded. "It's not like I know how to get out of here. I don't even know where here is, for Christ's sake."

Grog leaned against a tree. He seemed to be gasping for air as well and every now and then clenched his teeth like he was in pain. Alex spun her round and grabbed her arms. She struggled to get free but he held her tight. "You _are_ the way out of here."

The wind picked up again and light seemed to flit through the trees. Alex wavered on the spot and she pushed him away. He stumbled back and leaned on a tree for support. Amy ran past him but as she got to the edge of the trees she was blinded by a strange light. Maevara stood in front of her now. "I'm sorry, but we can't let you go."

"You…you…" Amy struggled to find the words. A mix of fright and anger stifled her voice. "Go to HELL!" She screamed and ran for where they had entered. Alex stood blocking her way. It was as if the wind blew around him and put him there. She stopped.

"Its hell you want is it?" His angered flared. The lights seem to be dancing amongst the trees again. Noises were everywhere; screeches and rustles and fluttering of wings and the clacking of the bones and a whole host of noises. She couldn't distinguish one from the next. "Take a look around girl," he spat. "It's in hell that we live!"

He spun her to look at the others. She saw Grog first, barely standing. His lips were dry and cracked and her skin powdery white. Amy held her breath. "I'm sorry." He rasped. She looked at his arm. His clothes were hanging off in rags and his flesh to match. She could see the white of his bones. Alexander spun her back to face him. His eyes were glazed over, glowing purple in the night. The very skin on his cheeks seemed to dry up and crumble from his face. As the wind blew through him he was so stricken that he let her go and roared in agony. She let out a scream to match his shout and backed away. She stumbled right into Grog. He touched her with a bony hand and she turned and met his gaze, frozen with terror. She let her breath out slowly as she saw the sadness in his eyes. A tear ran down the inside of his pale dry cheek and he whispered "Please."

Amy looked him up and down. She struggled to know what to do or say. "I'm sorry." She managed. It felt pathetic to her but it was all she had.

"No!" Mae rasped. Amy had forgotten about her for a moment. "We will not go back." She saw the old woman, looking as bad as the others and froze as she came at her. She pulled Amy's shirt and lifted her high, her strength astounded her. She kicked and kicked until a life saving gust of wind and flash of light ripped through the woman's body, racking her with pain.

Amy dropped and ran back. Alex met her as she fled. "You will save us."

She turned and ran but Grog met her next. "Join us. Help us. Please we're just…we're so…just so very tired…" he managed.

She turned again but Maevara had regained her strength. "It's pointless. Come with us. Help us or He'll have you for his very own and we'll all be…."

Her voice faded away to nothing as the moon rose high in the sky. The skeletons that had once been the three of them started rasping their protests and stalking slowly towards her, surrounding her, but their voices all mixed into one. The only way out was behind her so she turned and tried to break away. Before Amy could make two steps she was cut off by a man who loomed above her. He wore a black tunic that was styled in strips that met like a V in the middle and leather trousers. He smirked down at her and glared at her with the hollowest mauve eyes she had ever seen.

The three strangers rasped a great hiss at The Man that echoed in her ears as the wind grew all around them. As Amy stared at The Man, frozen in terror, He suddenly stopped smiling and flicked His eyes at the three behind her. They continue rasping and wailing wildly as the forest lit up like the sun and they burned away into nothing.

He started laughing as Amy screamed and ran past Him. _God_, she thought, _what the hell is going on here?_ She ran and ran and ran through the trees, barely pausing to avoid hurting herself. She could hear the wind howling after her, see shapes moving beside her that she couldn't outrun. Everywhere she looked she saw the hollow sunken eyes of a ghostly skeleton and it was all she could do to stop herself from running with her eyes closed.

Stammering and whimpering she stopped and hid at the biggest tree she could see. She was totally lost now and had no idea what to do. _I'm going to die_, she thought, _this is insane_.

She tensed as she heard a rustle behind her. Footsteps. She didn't know what to do. As they approached she waited, her panic growing. When they were almost upon her she let out a yelp and ran back round the tree, only to run into the arms of a man who grabbed her hard by the shoulders and yelled,

"What are you doing here!?"


	5. Chapter 5

_Authors note: Hey to anyone reading this lol Sorry it took me so long to get Chapter 5 up – my pc broke and I had to send it away to be fixed etc etc plus it is a long one anyway. Unlike the last one though, I'm not splitting it into 2 chapters. Also I am dumping the chapter names thing – it's getting way to hard to think of them lol_

_Please R&R and if you are liking it get other people to read it :P_

_**Chapter 5**_

She was shivering as she slept. The man watched her from the armchair like he had been watched every day. He chewed his lip as he chewed the thoughts, barely blinking, barely knowing what to think. He had been on his way back to his little cabin when a flash of light made him stop. The shape that flew past the man then took him by complete surprise and he dashed after it without a second thought. Before he knew it he was looking into the eyes of a terrified girl and dragging her from the woods to the safety of his hut. She had refused to sleep but almost eventually succumbed to exhaustion and closed her eyes. He wondered what she might be dreaming. Every now and then she whimpered softly and for brief periods she fitted so sharply that the man thought he might have to hold her down.

It was still dark. With the fire burnt out, the dark blues and blacks of the cabin sat still and unchanging, as did the forest outside. It didn't matter to the man though; his eyes were well adjusted to the night. The longer he seemed to spend in the woods, the easier it was to focus in the darkness, as did the light become unbearable; another of the reasons he was reluctant to leave the shade of his cabin. The air was hot and dry and no moonlight or wind seemed to penetrate the veil of the atmosphere. It felt like it did just before a storm hit, the pressure building in the air.

"Rather odd, don't you think?" A voice drifted down to him, but his focus remained. The voice was right however, this was change, and change didn't happen in this place often. The man gazed up at the voice. His eyes met The Man briefly before He looked back over at the girl. The man kept his eyes on his visitor, however. He agreed that it was odd but still wondered why everyone seemed concerned but Him. Unfortunately, the face of The Man in the black V-tunic revealed nothing. "I guess we found the owner of that thing, huh?" He gestured his head toward the backpack lying on the floor. The man had forgotten about his find.

He blinked at it, realisation creeping into his mind suddenly when he remembered how he had found it. He let out a small laugh and gazed up at The Man who was smirking back at him. _That damn jester_, he thought. She had wanted him to find it by pretending to not want him to find it by pretending to hide it from him. Now he knew even less what he should be thinking. It was one thing finding a girl, but another thing completely meeting one deliberately through the designs of someone whom it would be damaging for to have them meet.

When he next looked to his right, The Man was gone. Yet his eyes went wide when his gaze once again fell upon the bed. The girl lay motionless and slept soundly at last. But on top of the bed, lying beside her was a young woman garbed in a dress of blue and green and white, tattered and worn yet vibrant and piercing. Her skin was pale as the moon and glistened like ice, reflecting the shining bright purple in her eyes. A thin smile spread across her blue and lilac lips and she stroked the girl's hair in silence.

Amy awoke from her nightmare and looked up at the woman gazing down at her. She flinched when the whitest face she had ever seen looked down upon her but let out a sigh as a gentle finger reached up to brush the hair from her face. "Mum." She said. The face she looked at was now warm and kind.

"You were talking. You always used to talk in your sleep when you were little, do you remember?" Her mother stood and walked out the door. She could see her walk down the stairs through the railings of the white banister that ran along the hall of the second floor. When a faint light flicked into being she followed suit. Downstairs she found her mother at the piano they had in the dining room of their country house.

"What are you--" Amy started.

"I just can't remember it." Her mother hammered at a series of keys in frustration. "You ever just get something stuck in your head that you just can't quite…" She clenched her fist as if trying to reach into her memories and grab something, like an apple just out of reach. She shook her head and hammered at the beginnings of the tune again. Listening for a few moments, the girl realised that she recognised it from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it. She knew she had only just heard it recently but was it at school or…?

"Mum, you'll wake everyone up." Amy glanced up the stairs to hear if anyone stirred but she couldn't see or hear anything. She rushed down to close the piano lid.

"Oh please, them?" She let out a gentle laugh. Amy loved her mother's laugh; it was one of those laughs that seemed so sincere even when you faked it. "They're gone, out of it. Dead to the world, forget about them." Her mother reopened the lid and thumped at the same five notes, shaking her head every time she couldn't finish. "Just gotta focus on this. Focus on something real, something here, you know?" She looked up at her daughter. Amy smiled uncertainly, having _no_ idea why her mother was sitting at a piano at this time in the morning.

They were in the kitchen and Amy found a white mug in her hand. It smelled like hot chocolate. "Do you like hot chocolate?" Her mum asked before whisking it off her and pouring it down the sink. She laughed, "See what happens, you forget, if you don't force yourself to remember."

She was at the park, her mum sat on a rug on the grass. She wore a tight summer dress and sunglasses that filled her entire face. Yellow ants walked across the blue grass and up along a single white plate in front of a picnic basket. They turned red as they stepped off the plate. The sun beat down a pink glow all around them and her mother was eating a multicoloured ice cream cone. "You remember that time you kicked that little boy when you were on the swings?" She said with green and pink ice cream on her lips. Amy had to think. She looked around at the empty park and the vacant swings. A seesaw rocked of its own accord and a hulking metal roundabout rotated gently.

She came down from the top, she had never been that high before. Her mum was swinging beside her at the same pace. "You shouted at him to get out the way or you would kick him." Her mother continued, shouting as they swung. "He was this scrawny little thing with shaggy blond hair and he cried when you said that."

"That's not what happened." Amy said. The pink sun began to get in her eyes. She was swinging faster, faster, laughing harder, harder.

Amy was standing in front of the boy and his mother. He was bawling his eyes out, a small cut above his eye. A little fat kid was jumping and pointing and a grubby little girl joined in with the chorus of children by adding her own wails.

"No, no, no, no." Her mum walked through them shaking a finger and they froze, a big hat shielded the sun from Amy's eyes as her mother loomed down at her.

She was on the swing again and met her mother's gaze as she came up in front. "It was that stupid little fat kid…" Amy swung back and found her mother on her right. "…who was always bouncing around…" She moved forward. Her mother was back at her ice cream. She laughed cheekily as she said, "He said you wanted to see…" Back. "…how far he could bounce."

"No." Amy said to her mother in front with the ice cream. "That's not what…" The sun began to get in her eyes. It blinded her until everything went pink and she was back looking at the fat kid and his mother. "The sun, it was the sun, I couldn't…I saw him on the way down. I fell off the swing with him."

Amy reached out her hands in protest and a mug was placed in it. "I _knew_ you liked hot chocolate." Her mum washed away the previous batch then leant against the sink and brought the mug up to her nose and inhaled. She let out a sigh, "I love that smell. You know what it reminds me of?" Amy had a sniff herself. As the smell filled her nose, thoughts of her childhood ran through her head. "Ice cream!"

Amy looked up out of the mug at the little boy on the grass. The scrawny blond boy was pointing and shouting all sorts of incoherent nonsense as her mum tried to cajole the fat child with an ice cream cone. "It's goooood. Come on now, there's a big boy – you're alright aren't you?"

Her mother stood up, took her daughter's hands and spun her gently. When they came out of the spin they were sitting on the roundabout. "No danger of attacking children on here, is there?"

"I told you, I didn't mean it! He ran out, I came down and couldn't stop but I jumped off and fell into him." She was tired of them trying to make her feel guilty. She looked over at her three mothers at the swings. "You hear me?" She yelled. The swings alternated in between them, swinging with the ghosts of all the children who she had never seen swing there. Her mothers smiled and turned one by one and disappeared. The scrawny haired boy had been standing on the edge of the rotating roundabout and he disappeared leaving it turning to itself. The ants continued their march across the plate.

Amy was in her bed, her mother gazing down at her. "Really?" Her mother quizzed, pulling the covers over her. "Well, you see what happens when people try to _tell_ you what happened." She leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You know what happened and that's all that matters. You know whether you should have felt guilty or not."

Amy sunk her head into the soft pillow. The last thing her mother said to her was, "Remember that."

Amy's eyes drifted open a little after sunrise. She stayed where she was though, simply looking at the room before her. Disappointed that she hadn't still been in her own soft bed she let out a gentle sigh. From where she lay Amy could see the man who had rescued her last night. He had dragged her from the forest kicking and screaming and she remembered how hysterical she had been when he had grabbed her. She had gotten herself completely lost running that deep into the woods, but after everything that happened she knew she could not stop. At first she had thought the man was out to get her too, but after he managed to restrain her and drag her to his home, she saw that he wasn't like the other three. Still, even now she didn't trust that he meant her no harm. The man was asleep on the chair, his head tilted back, making a soft snoring noise.

Light was just beginning to creep into the room. Dust flew across a thin strip of light that broke through the grubby window on the left. It landed in the middle of the floor on a rug that poked out from under the chair. The air smelled musty and felt dry as she lay there. Her whole body seemed to ache from exhaustion and exertion, but she forced herself to sit up. Getting out of the bed, she moved slowly and silently across the room, wary of waking the man. The old floor creaked below her as she tried to navigate it. Stopping in the sunbeam Amy stared at the man. The sun warmed her face and for a minute she just enjoyed its soothing touch. Looking at the door, she wondered if she should try and escape. She was about to step forward when she saw her backpack on the floor beside the table. Amy just stared at in disbelief. Seeing something familiar, something of hers, surprised her. She thought she had lost the bag the time she ran through the woods after hearing the music. She had forgotten about the music until then. She tried to remember the tune as she grabbed her bag and unzipped it, grabbing at her books and things.

Behind her, the man stirred and looked up at Amy sleepily. He cleared his throat and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Amy spun to face him immediately, sitting on a chair and clutching her bag. At first his expression said he was surprised to see her but then he seemed to remember the events of last night. Amy could do nothing but stare at the man, knowing neither what to say or do. Biting his lip, the man cleared his throat, softly this time, and spoke calmly. "Good morning." He said awkwardly. Then after a pause he gestured towards the bag and said, "It's yours then?"

Amy looked down at the bag; its contents sticking out from her attempt to stuff them back in hastily. "Yes," she said, shyly, adding, "Thank you."

It seemed he was having as much trouble looking her in the eye as she was him. She knew she should thank him for helping her last night but despite her intentions, the words caught in her throat. It was he who was forced to try and make conversation. "Did you, umm, did you sleep well?"

Amy just nodded but it wasn't a total lie. After a few fitful dreams she settled down and slept the rest of the night.

"That's good. I mean after what…" Amy still didn't want to think about what happened and the man must have seen it in her face, for he hesitated before continuing. She had cried for an hour last night until her face was red and her throat was hoarse. The man had tried to comfort her, she knew, but just being able to stop and process it all had left her inconsolable. Even when she lay down it was a while before she was able to sleep. The man had lit a fire to give her warmth and the cracks and pops broke the silence that came with the night. For that she was glad at least.

He seemed to be watching her carefully, studying her. "You weren't disturbed were you? Didn't see…?" Amy shook her head and a wave of relief washed over the man's face.

Amy felt compelled to say something. "Thank you for…" she managed with a glance around the room, "you know…"

"It's okay." He smiled at her gently. She looked into his eyes for the first time since last night. It had only been after she looked into his eyes that Amy knew this man was not like the others. Despite her doubts she saw something in his deep blue eyes that made her nerves go away. Only then had she stopped struggling, she remembered. Now, like then, she lost all thoughts of running away. "We didn't really get a chance to talk. You must have a million questions."

Amy did, but she wanted more to go home than ask questions. She looked out the window. "I just want to go home."

The man smiled his sad smile once more and uttered his understanding. He stood and stretched and said, "Well, first let's get you cleaned up. I'll get you some water and…I don't have any food but…"

Amy was starving she realised. She hadn't eaten since her breakfast yesterday with Mae and walked with Grog all day. She didn't want to be left alone but she also felt grubby and welcomed the idea of freshening up. Instead of voicing any of her opinions Amy just nodded and said, "Okay."

And then she was alone again.

When the door closed behind him he was alone again. He stood there for a moment, worried about whether or not it was safe to leave her alone. Ignoring his thoughts he picked up his bucket and went to get water.

When he arrived at the small stream he sat with his back to a tree, removed his boots and dangled his feet in the water. He laughed gently as it ran over his toes. His head screamed at him in disbelief. _What am I doing?_ He noticed where he was. He was _outside._ He felt the air around him, hot as it was, and the cool splashing of the water on his feet. Before last night, the man hadn't left his house for countless days, not even for food or water. And even then, yesterday was simply a desperate attempt to flee the images he had seen. He contemplated it for a moment. He had been acting irrationally the past few days.

It had been back when the first greys started to appear in his hair that The Man in the black first appeared to the man. And when that happened he knew the end was not far. Yet, he had lingered. The darkness in his soul began to seep into his waking hours as well as his night. He felt the way the night changed him and so stayed abed, afraid to face the world. Some nights he had even screamed for death, yet he lingered.

But now, he felt differently. He had spoken boldly where before he would have held his tongue. He had smiled at thoughts designed to give him pain – even if just for a moment. He wondered about the girl and if she were somehow responsible. It couldn't have been mere coincidence. But why would the presence of this girl wake him from his defeated stupor?

He remembered the noises two days ago; of the forest springing to life and the winds rushing through the woods. Over time the man had come to realise that what they meant were simply that something had disturbed the forest. He had seen it many times now; it happened when the night claimed another soul; it happened when something broke free; and it happened when someone new found their way inside. He had seen it before, back when he and the forest were still part of the world. Back when his body showed youth and strength.

He had not always been alone. Once upon a time he had found others, just as lost as he had been. And one by one the man watched them dwindle and die, until at last it was his turn. He couldn't remember their faces or their names but he remembered that he had tried to help them as they appeared haunted by memories and visions alike. Yet no matter what he did they still slipped through his fingers. Each time he lost one of them he lost a bit of himself until he became one of them.

The last time it happened, and the light and cacophony flooded the woods, a child died in his arms. He was a young man who thought the world had ended around him. A young man consumed by panic who fought against everything in his path, against shrieks made by creatures invisible and incorporeal until at last he found one that wasn't.

Once more he grimaced at the thought. _It never should have happened. _It was one of the few things in his life that he still remembered clearly. It was strange to the man how it had always been the bad things. It could never be things that made him feel good or alive.

And then, in that thought he had it. He found a new resolve there under that tree. _It won't happen again! _The man could help this girl. Somehow that thought gave him something to hold on to. He knew that this was how the girl was responsible and he realised why it made him feel more alive. He was needed again. And for the first time since the day that boy looked into his eyes he didn't want to die.

Amy tried her very best not to think about the night before. She kept herself busy in the silence by first making the bed, then she fixed the rug and table but pretty soon she ran out of things to keep busy with. She wiped the smudge from the window and tried to peer out, sat in the armchair and played with her bag. After trying her unresponsive phone again Amy wandered over to a shelf on the wall opposite the table. Amongst the dust there were a number of everyday objects as well as the odd not-so-everyday object.

There were a few books, some more collections of ragged and torn bit of paper squashed between two hard covers than actual books. There was a large brush about the size of Amy's hand that she figured must have been used for a horse and beside that a cracked lantern like the one on the table.

It was the thing next to these however that caught her attention. A sword, covered with dust, ran the rest of the length of the shelf. Amy's eyes lit up and she lifted it eagerly. She had never held a real sword before, only played at pirates with plastic ones when she was young. It was heavier than she imagined and the dust was so thick that it literally poured off. Blowing the rest off with a cough she ran her finger along the edge. It was rough and blunt and Amy imagined was probably used more for hacking than precision swordplay. Cleaning the hilt, she found it was a beautiful ocean blue. Despite being rough around the edges, the workmanship was evident; the handle was ribbed and fit the hand comfortably. The blade still had a little bit of a gleam on it she noticed when holding it in the light. Now that she did she saw how dirty the sword really was. The end was stained a dark brown and Amy rubbed once again at it to take it off. She couldn't really tell what it was, mud or rust or…

Amy abruptly stopped having fun and put it back quickly. She didn't know why this man had a sword let alone why it was stained like that. She hoped it wasn't blood. She tried not to let doubts creep back into her head but she couldn't help it. After staring at the end of the blade for more than a minute Amy grabbed the biggest book off the shelf and sat on the armchair. It was leather bound and cracked with age. There was no title on either the spine or cover and when she flicked it open the paper was thin and yellowed, and the text was in the strangest language she had ever seen. Continuing to leaf through, she saw there were a few illustrations. The first was of a man, garbed in green with long flowing hair and a sword that shone brightly. The illustration showed him standing on a rock and thrusting the sword skyward. It reminded her of an old fairytale hero but the drawings were professional and much like the ones she had seen in history books. Other images showed various instruments; another was the portrait of a man with a fat face and white beard, who wore a golden crown on his head; the next was a black and white picture of a man on horseback, looking like the first image except he wore a long cap as well; she saw castles and houses and great cathedrals and temples hewn out of rock and sand; she saw a young girl with deep sad eyes holding a flower. Finally, Amy saw the portrait of a man with angry red hair and dark skin. He had even darker eyes and a smile that Amy found uncomfortable to behold. Across the page was a sketch of three triangles with lines around them, as if they were meant to shine brightly. She wished she could read the words, the whole book fascinated her. She noticed now that they were the same symbols she had seen on that strange stone, yet these seemed unwilling to translate themselves.

As she was replacing the book, Amy glanced again at the sword. But this time her gaze went beyond the tip until her eyes fell upon something behind the armchair. It was a trunk, about half the size of the chair it was hidden behind. As the chair sat at an angle it had concealed it from any other view in the room. Amy wanted to have a look, but wasn't sure if she should. The man wouldn't be long now, surely.

_Oh well, a small peek won't hurt,_ she told herself. Dragging it out, she found the latch on the front open. Inside she saw various trivial items, which obviously must have held more personal value than anything. It contained a few pieces of clothing, some green, blue and brown, and a pouch full of multicoloured crystals. There was a small bottle but it was too dark to see what was supposed to be in it. The liquid oozed slowly like a really thick cough medicine and Amy didn't like the look of it.

Fearing the man would come back and catch her Amy stopped her search, returned everything and slid the chest back behind the chair. She felt a slight pang of guilt at the thought of being so damn nosy, but just as strong was the urge to finish looking in the chest. As if her instincts were correct, the door opened and the man entered, carrying a large bucket.

The man waited outside as the girl freshened up. He had heated the water over a fire and found a large bowl under the bed and some clean cloth for her to use. As he stood, the man's eyes never left the door. He found he was eager for her to emerge, just so he could talk to her. She may have had questions but so had he. She dressed strangely, possessed strange things and spoke just as queerly.

The man had been heating some fish he had caught in the bucket over a fire as he had once done when food mattered to him. He had to admit, though, the smell of it made his mouth water. He tried to remember what fish tasted like, and indeed if he had liked the taste of it. He turned to check it and no sooner than he did, a voice said, "Smells good."

Smiling, he turned and came face to face with the young woman he had seen last night. The man clenched the long fork he had been using to stir the fish in the pan so tightly his knuckles turned white. "What is it?" The Woman asked; Her eyes hollow and unblinking.

"Fish." The man glared. When She flicked Her head at him and brought Her eyes into his, the man began to tremble. Whether it was with anger or fear he couldn't be sure. Either way he lost all confidence. "Trout, I think." He said, resigned.

"No." The Woman replied.

"No?" The man was confused.

"No." The Woman moved forward, sliding Her cold finger along the edge of the pan and prodding him in the chest. "What is this?" The man looked down at the fork, playing with it nervously in both hands. The whole forest seemed to grow colder around him, and now he was unsure whether he shook from the fear, anger or the cold. "What is this I smell?" She ran Her black, dead nail along his chest and circled behind him. She was smaller than him by at least a head but came up close to his neck regardless. She showed no emotion in Her pale, purple and pupil-less eyes and this was echoed in Her voice. It was usually always calm yet he knew She relished in being cruel as well.

Stepping back in front of him Her dress shone in the sunlight. Her feet were bare as She tiptoed round the grass. "Are you actually feeling something for this girl?"

The man didn't know what he was feeling but the mention of the girl brought back his determination. "You stay away from her."

The Woman didn't even look at him. "No that's not it is it?" She said. "Not really _for _this girl, _from _this girl." She chuckled gently. Glancing round at him, She looked him up and down. "What is it she stirs in you?"

Her innuendo was enough to make him sick but he felt even more ashamed that he let those thoughts now enter his mind.

"What's the matter?" The Woman asked. The man didn't even look at Her.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine!" He shouted, but it was the girl he found himself looking at, and she jumped at his tone. "Oh…" he muttered. The man brought his palms to his face, patted his eyes then tried to stop his hands trembling. "I'm sorry, I was…"

"I thought I could smell food." The girl said nervously.

"Yes, yes," the man assured her eagerly, "Come, come, eat, I hope you don't mind fish."

"I wouldn't mind eyeballs and tapioca." He knew it was supposed to be a joke but the girls humour was alien to him. He smiled anyway and offered her the fork and the pan. She sat on a rock in front of the fire and the man followed suit.

After she had wolfed it down and offered him her thanks, the man asked her why she was here.

"I don't even know where here is." The girl answered.

The thought of trying to explain it to her left the man speechless. He simply said, "It's not a place for young girls." She seemed to take offence so the man added, "It's not a place for anyone."

"Then why are _you_ here?" She quizzed him.

"I wish I knew…" The man looked into the fire. He just stared until the girl was forced to break the silence.

"I'm Amy by the way." She offered her hand and he took it after a thought. It was a strange name to him. "What do they call you?"

The man felt like he had just been slapped. The question was so simple, so obvious, yet so unexpected that he just blinked at her. He opened his mouth to say the words but none came. He glanced around and let out a nervous laugh. He hadn't heard his name in so long that it was like trying to remember his first words. It had been so long since he had told anyone that he had forgotten what the words sounded like. "I uh," he started, "I don't remember." The thought was ridiculous to him, and it was obviously ridiculous to Amy. Everyone remembers their own name. It's like remembering how to walk, to breathe. But the man could not.

"You don't remember?" Amy asked. The man stood up and turned away, shaking his head. It was like losing another part of him. He went inside the hut without another word.

Amy didn't mean to make him feel bad so she followed him inside. She couldn't imagine how a person could forget his own name but she still needed answers for herself. Inside the man was sitting at the table with his back to her. She walked round to the opposite chair and sat down. "How long have you been here?"

He stared at the unlit lamp and curled his lip. "Too long."

Amy didn't like the sound of that. She was about to ask something else when he continued. "People have been born and died, empires have risen and fallen. Whole worlds have passed into insignificance; most pertinently this one. I haven't seen another human soul for…more days than I can remember." He looked at her in astonishment. "How did you get here?"

"I wish _I_ knew." She echoed. "I mean, I just walked here. I didn't mean it."

"How long have you been here?" He asked her with knowing eyes.

"About two days now."

"About," the man started hesitantly, "About where I found you…" Amy tensed. She knew she'd have to talk about the previous night sooner or later but still hadn't thought about how she would explain it. The things she saw were terrifying.

"What were you doing out there?" He asked before she could reply.

"I was just trying to get out, to go home." That was all she wanted to say about the matter and the man simply nodded gently.

As they sat in silence Amy couldn't help but remember. She saw Mae's face in her head. She closed her eyes and saw Grog looking at her, with his hollow sad eyes and decaying face. Thinking of that and how it had happened to them she could only think of one thing. Despite not wanting to cry, Amy could feel her eyes become moist as she tried to speak. "Is that going to happen to me?"

The man kneeled in front of her and took her arms. "What?"

"I'm never going to get out of here and that's going to happen to me isn't it?" She couldn't help it. After trying hard not to speak about it she couldn't stop the words flowing. She needed to hear it, even though she knew the answer. The man only looked at her with a bewildered expression. The more Amy wanted to cry the angrier she got. "Tell me!"

"What?" He demanded, "What were you doing out there?" The man tried to look into her eyes; as if he could see the story play back through them and know what she went through.

Amy calmed down and told him. "We thought if we went back to the first place I remembered then I could get home."

"We?" The man said.

"I thought it would be fine. I mean I didn't want to go back there but I figured they knew best…" She drew a breath. The man looked at her with an expression that was now confused and worried. She looked into his eyes. "They live here, so I thought…oh God it was so bad. Their faces…they just…"

The man let go of her hands and sat back in the chair. His face was a fortress that didn't let anything out, so she didn't know what he was thinking.

"Those bastards," Amy spat and stood up and turned to the door. She breathed through the anger for a moment. "I mean she was so nice to me. She helped me; I thought…I thought she…I just…" And now she couldn't help but cry. She fell onto the easy chair muttering about how terrible it was.

The man came over and knelt once more before her. Amy felt ashamed at crying in front of someone, especially since she wasn't the type of person to be found crying at anything. He spoke softly to her, trying to give her some comfort, taking her hands again. "Who was it? Who did you see?"

"The woman; she lives in the house in the forest, off the big path. She was so nice. Mae, she said her name was." Amy swallowed the urge to sob and composed herself.

"Mae?" The man said, surprised. He turned his head and stared at nothing again, the way he had been doing all day.

"What?" Amy asked.

He seemed to consider her question for a while finally speaking. "There's something you should see."

The forest didn't seem to want to grow here anymore. The ground was black and littered with bits and pieces of a life long lost; things that couldn't even be identified anymore. The dead trees sat broken in piles of ash and the ones still standing looked down forlornly on the two who disrupted the silence that death had brought the place. There seemed to be a grey haze hanging in the air, as if the fire only happened yesterday.

Amy stood where she had previously just slept. She could still make out some of the fabric of the sofa and saw the blackened table; the glass bubbled and cracked with the heat. Amy was overwhelmed with a sense of pity and sadness as she gazed at the walls that were still standing, or what was left of them. The entire kitchen area was gone but the wall dividing the two main rooms still stood. It was in the back room that she found the old man. She almost gagged as she saw what he was looking at. On the fire-torn bed lay the remains of a person. The bones were black and some of the flesh had been preserved after surviving the fire. The skull was contorted in a way that could only be a scream of pain. It made Amy sob to look at. The arms were frozen, one out to the side, the other reaching upwards. Amy let out a muffled wail and ran from the ruined hut. It wasn't long before the man joined her. The look on his face told her he knew exactly how she felt.

"She was a good woman." The man said, as if finally being able to deliver a funeral speech to someone. "I remember now," He continued, "she was what they called a 'loyalist'." He said it as if it were an accusation, something alleged. "A traitor in the end. But what it really meant was that she wasn't willing to bow down to some…usurper. They were forced to run for their lives and their families but I don't remember why."

Amy listened intently, as if she owed it to the woman to hear what had brought about her horrendous fate.

"They were hunted down, one by one. I suppose the only place left to run was…" He looked up and around him. He took a breath before continuing. "I wasn't here back then. I got here near the end and I couldn't stop her; another failure of mine, I suppose…It was too much for her to handle." He bent down and picked up a spoon, turning it in his hands as he spoke. "She was a good woman…too old…couldn't deal with this place…so she…" He looked up at the house.

Amy's breath caught in her throat. "You mean she--?"

"Did this to herself?" The man finished. "Yes." He nodded gently, a look of hurt on his ageing features.

The pair stood in silence for what seemed an eternity. Amy couldn't grasp what was what happening. Despite what she had seen the night before, as far as she was concerned she was sitting with this woman not two days ago. How could that be her in there?

Finally, throwing the spoon away, the man said, "Lets go."


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey to anyone who still cares lol  
Just wanted to get this out there! It's about all of what I have been happy with so far in this chapter - there's a lot more to come it's just in pieces haha Kinda having trouble keeping up with myself while still driving the story forward. I'd really like any opinions on that in fact, if I am succeeding in keeping the pace/moving on/taking the story in an enjoyable direction etc  
And not every chapter needs to be a million pages long so here is 6 - read and enjoy and for once 7 shouldn't be a million miles behind it!  
Alias.U_

_**Chapter 6**_

The forest glowed with the light of the setting sun. Once more it seemed to flit through the trees like some omnipresent spirit guiding their way. Somehow though, that thought didn't comfort Amy. She was beginning to constantly feel as if she was being watched and unlike the warmth from the sun, the idea left her chilled to the core. The man was walking with intent, focused and tense. The further they went the more Amy noticed it. "Is it just me or is this taking longer to get back than it did coming," Amy noted, her legs beginning to ache. The man said nothing, but stopped and glanced back at her. Obviously he had noticed.

The light was slowly beginning to die and Amy did not fancy being left out here again. At least inside the man's hut they might be safe, but out here…it didn't bear thinking about. Amy didn't fully understand what was happening to her but she felt exposed, vulnerable. "How is that even possible?"

"It's possible," the man said, and continued forward. "Come on."

Amy glanced behind her. Everything looked the same. It must be really easy to get lost here. When she turned to start walking again the man was gone and someone else was in his stead. Amy was startled and almost jumped. Before her, a young girl stood, dressed like some sort of clown, or jester. She was looking up at Amy with her head cocked and smiled with a twinkle in her eye. "Are you lost?" The Jester said to her.

"No," Amy said warily, taking a small step forward. "My friend is right up ahead." She never took her eyes off the Fool as She danced ever so gently on the spot, clutching a little wand with a dolls head that mimicked Her own.

"I don't see anyone," the Jester said with a squeak. "Maybe you're mistaken."

Amy hurried past the Girl and tried to catch up with the man. All the while, the Girl chuckled to herself. The man was nowhere to be seen, however.

Then the Fool was in front of her, sitting on the branch of a nearby tree. "Well isn't that rude," She called down. "He just left without you." She jumped down from the tree and ran up to Amy and took her hand. "So, does that mean you're lost?"

Amy pulled her hand back. She didn't know who this Girl was but she didn't like Her. "Get off me," she spat and pushed forward. All the way she could hear the Jester calling out to her "You don't know the way." The voice seemed to follow her. "You need to know the way," it said, and "You'll get lost!"

Amy didn't want to admit she could be lost. That would be the worst thing that could happen. She tried to call out to the man but found herself cursing instead. "For God sake, how can you not just have a name?" She turned on the spot, but the Girl was not there. The darkness was beginning to close in and Amy's thoughts could only wander back to her first night. She tried to stay calm but a voice inside her filled her with panic.

Suddenly, she heard a chuckle, and the girl was before her. Amy let out a yelp and turned and collided straight into the man. He grabbed her. "What is it?"

Amy glanced around and realised she hadn't actually moved, and the sun was still comfortably above the horizon. "I, uh," Amy muttered. "I…there was…how did we?" The man just looked at her. Amy mumbled. "Where did you go?"

The man looked behind her. "I didn't go anywhere," he said softly, a look of concern in his face. "What's wrong?"

Amy composed herself and cleared her throat. "Nothing, I just kinda zoned out for a minute. I thought I heard something – I was wrong."

The man glanced over her head and around at the gaps between the trees. He stared into her eyes, as if they were hiding something.

The man remembered himself and straightened up. "Let's go."

She didn't argue, but Amy sensed that he knew there was something she wasn't telling him. The fact that he never looked at her again backed up her thoughts.

It was fully dark as they approached the hut, and both felt that they could breathe again. A shiver ran down her spine as Amy took in the night one last time before retreating inside. The air was choking, stifling. It was as if someone had draped a wet blanket over her face, as if the night was conspiring with the forest to suffocate them.

Despite the heat though, Amy found she craved a fire, but the man just lit the lamp on the table. Amy sat as close to it as she could, letting the fingers of light caress her face, burning the blanket away. The man remained silent and appeared lost in thought.

She found herself wondering about the hut they found sanctuary in. Despite her apprehension that she might break the security of the silence she asked anyway. "Did you build this?"

"Mm," he replied with a start. "Oh, uh no I found it."

"Who built it?"

"It was empty when I found it. I waited for its owner to return but he never did. Places like this are hard to find. You don't want to be outside when night comes."

"Why?" Amy asked but only the night replied. It didn't matter; she had a pretty good idea by now. The man looked like he shouldn't have spoken. He was looking for a way to change the subject so Amy did it for him. "Why don't you remember who you are?"

He looked down and his hair fell across his face. He weakly cleared his throat and his fingers traced the grain of the table. "I guess you don't really need to remember much when there's no one to talk to."

Amy found herself wondering about that. It made sense, but something told her he wasn't being completely honest. It was in his eyes perhaps. They seemed to hide something. Something…

"But all those people," She said, while the man continued to trace the grain, as if his fingers could find the answer deep within the ancient hollows. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"We shouldn't talk about it." He said with more than an audible hint of regret. She gave him a questioning glare. The resolve in his face visibly crumbled before her. "Please," he muttered. "Just forget it, get some sleep."

Amy sat and stared at him for a while. She didn't move until he looked at her. She wanted him to see that she wasn't scared. When he finally looked her in the eyes, his grey eyes were practically lifeless, that something now gone. She trudged to the bed in silence.

When she was asleep the man finally let his head rest on the back of the chair. But as usual, a voice would not let him rest. "Tense," was all it said. He threw his head forward and saw the Jester sitting on the wooden mantle above the fire. The normal red and green of Her garb greyed in the shadow of the moonlight of her face. "You really ought to just tell her you know. Get it over with. What, you think you're protecting her? All I see is a girl who is trusting you less and less by the second. You don't want to go and chase her off now do you?" The man narrowed his eyes at Her cheeky grin. The black, painted triangle beneath Her penetrating purple eye wrinkled as She smiled.

"Get out," he said

She rolled Her eyes. "Still offering that sense of humour, you know."

"Just leave us alone," he complained.

"Why," The Jester smirked. "This one seems like a genuine laugh."

"_You_ won't get her," he told Her. "You haven't got the strength."

"Mmmm," She droned, crossing Her legs. "You might be right. God knows you dried up years ago. I've gotta admit though," she jumped down from her perch and stretched. "It has been good to be back. I'm just raring to go. And I've already introduced myself. I see us becoming great friends."

The man tried not to let his horror show but the Girl giggled out loud. He swallowed, steeling his determination. "It won't matter," he said.

"Oh sure, I forgot," She drawled. "Great hero to the rescue. Don't make me laugh, please." A giggle burst from Her lips and She pranced over to the bed. "You've got every chance of getting this one out as you had, oh, with…Mae and Grog and Croll and Alice and Rena and Alex and Casei and…"

The man winced as She delivered Her list of names, Her grin widening with each one. Most of them he barely remembered but She brought each face out of his mind to greet their names. It hurt to know he was powerless to stop what happened to them. And now he was the last of them. Well, almost…

The Fool noticed his expression and bounded over to him. She stuck Her lip out apologetically. "I'm sorry. Although I did forget one name…"

He looked at Her. He shook his head.

She used Her wand to bring his cheek round. Her voice lowered, becoming soft, sympathetic. "You couldn't even save yourself. Don't try with her." With a glance back at the girl in the bed, The Jester turned. The man watched in wondrous horror as She grew into the form of the sleeping girl with every step towards her. His heart sank at the sight. "Although, you could…yes you really could," this fake Amy said, Her tone morose. "You could show me. Make me forget; make me _want_ to forget…like you did."

The vision of Amy looked back at the man. Her eyes blazed and she filled his mind with thoughts. She fed him images, the remembrance of which brought with them a flood of other memories, each with a pain of its own – a pain he had forgotten. Her purple eyes rippled as they drank up his hurt and left only the image of what he needed to do – what She would have him do. "Don't make me go through what you did," She begged. And once more he was alone with his decision.

Amy woke and saw that once again the man was staring at her. That would really freak a less secure person out. Hell, she was freaked out enough without him adding to it.

She couldn't remember if she dreamt, but she was glad for it. Dreams only reminded her of where she was and more importantly where she wasn't. It was all still so ridiculous being here. She felt like she could just go walk out the door and be home within ten minutes. They'd send her to the loony bin for this, no doubt!

"Come on," the man said. "Let's go." He stood up and picked up her bag.

"What," she asked, barely awake. "Where?"

He shrugged an irritated shrug; his voice punctuated his frustration. "Somewhere," he muttered. "We can't just sit here forever."

That nagging voice crept into her head but she ignored it. She wasn't going to argue.

"I know you've been scared." The man said when they were walking through the trees.

"I'm not scared," Amy said.

"It's okay, I've probably not helped," he said and once again she didn't argue. "But if I don't tell you what you want to know then I think I can get you out of here." She tried to understand what that meant but remained silent. After a minute he spoke again. "Your parents must miss you."

Amy choked back the thought. They could imagine all sorts of things. Then a realisation hit her. She stopped and touched his arm. "What if they come looking for me?"

"Well I would hope…"

"What if they come here?" She clarified.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," the man said.

"Why not?"

"You can't just wander into a place like this," he said.

"Why not," she asked. "I did!"

The man raised his eyebrows. "Well you're not supposed to be able to."

"What do you mean?"

He was silent for a moment, obviously choosing his words. "We're all here for one reason or the other, I guess."

Amy didn't reply to that. "Do you think you can actually get me out of here?" She asked instead.

He stopped at a crooked tree in front of them. The look on his face didn't inspire much hope. The man just turned away and continued forward into a small clearing. "Oh," he said when he was halfway down, dropping her bag at his feet.

Amy looked around. The forest had opened just a little. The path was a little wider and sloped off to one side. The tree at which she stood was at an odd angle to the rest of the tall, rigid, straight ones. At the bottom of the path something seemed to glitter in the sun. The branches of the trees behind seemed to stretch out protectively over it. There was a small, square stone sticking out of the ground, overgrown with roots and creepers. No. It wasn't sticking out of the ground…

"Is that ice?" Amy asked. A small frozen pond not much wider than the man was tall gleamed in the flickering light.

The man nodded. "I almost…" he said as Amy approached it.

"Is it safe," she asked, testing it with her foot.

"It's solid," he said with a seemingly knowing nod. "It's always been frozen, for as long as I can remember. I think it must have been water at some point but…"

The pool surprised Amy. The choking heat of the forest made this seem impossible. But then she needed to remember to stop having those thoughts…

She turned to look at the man. "Well it's kind of neat but…"

He took a step forward but seemed wary about getting too close. He was a little antsy as he gazed around, like the trees were about to cry out in protest of his actions. He spoke carefully and softly. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe this is good…"

"Why exactly?" Amy said.

He sighed to himself and turned to face her. He swallowed the words and the thoughts with it. "This pool will show you anything you want," he explained. He almost smiled. "You could see your parents here."

"I can what?" Amy said. She looked at the pond before fixing yet another confused expression at the man.

"Ask it anything, and you'll see it." He said.

"Ask _it_?" Amy said. The man simply shrugged.

Amy looked into the frosted diamond sheet beneath her feet. Did he really just tell her to ask the ice something? "Where are we?" She announced uncertainly. She didn't know if he was crazier for suggesting it or if she were for doing it but it was the first question that entered her mind. She staggered back as the ice below began to swirl. An image of Amy and the man appeared like a reflection in glass, there but almost transparent as if to remind you it wasn't. It was as if she were watching a movie of their lives. It followed Amy as she moved until she stepped off the ice, then the image faded and the ice was still. Amy looked at the man It wasn't possible? There she went with those thoughts again…

The man almost smiled again, but he didn't say a word. He let Amy come to terms with it out on her own."

"Show me my mum." Amy said, stepping to the edge, and there she was. It was incredible. She was in the kitchen. A noise saw her turn and walk to the arch that led onto the living room; a door, the wind? Amy knew what she was looking for…

She dropped to her knees and stared at her mother's face. She was surprised at how much she missed her. Letting the image fade she stared through the rime. She almost forgot that whispering doubt that nearly made her run away screaming from this crazy man back to something sensible. It really was unbelievable. She even thought it was rather wonderful, and then it hit her, what she was gazing at.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, to the ice and to the man, but her voice betrayed her heart. All of a sudden she felt really cold.

"I thought you might like to see." The man said. Amy wasn't sure if he was explaining or apologising. Probably the former; she tried to convince herself that she was convincing.

The situation never felt more real than it ever did as she sat staring into the motionless grey beneath. This thing was awesome, but Amy struggled to take in what had just happened. She looked up as the man wandered onto the ice. "You used to come here?"

He nodded. Suddenly the ice swirled once more, and Amy struggled to see what was in the reflection. She stopped when she realised all she could see was a murky black…nothing! "It's a great big joke, really," he said. "We made it because we thought we could see parts of our lives. That somehow it might make us hold on a bit longer."

"What's wrong with that?" The damp had begun to seep through Amy's trouser legs.

"Truth be told, it only gives you comfort for so long," he said with a sigh. "You can only watch your friends change and grow old for so long before it serves as nothing more than to remind you that you aren't there any more."

Amy nodded. She was about to speak but the man interrupted her thoughts. "Then, you watch them…die. You watch their last moments and you scream to be heard; to be seen, to just be felt or something. You reach out to touch them and only meet the cold. You see the expression on their face and you wonder just what they might be thinking. I suppose, maybe it's selfish, but I suppose you ask yourself: Did they give you one last thought? Did they hold out hope 'til even that moment that you might come home? When was the last time they even thought of you at all?" He gazed at the ice. "And then you hurt some more to see that hope slip away and you hate that you did that to them." He looked profoundly at Amy, and almost appeared to laugh. "And then you hate them, can you believe that?" He said. "You hate them because they get to die…"

All the while, the ice began to swirl beneath them and soon they were surrounded by black. It pierced the day from beneath them and seemed to dim the very sun such that the forest became wreathed in shadow.

"What is that?" Amy asked, staring at the black.

"My home…" he said with a sad smile. "Or whatever's left of it."

It was as if there was nothing there at all. Or worse than nothing…the image frightened her. It seemed to penetrate deep into her mind, opening up a dread within her. The dread that she could lose everything she ever held close. She gazed at the man, and suddenly she knew why a person might want to forget something like this.

"This can show you anything?" She said. The man nodded. "Can't we ask it to show us the way out of here."

"If you like…" the man said, but his words were hollow like he wasn't really listening.

Amy asked her question aloud. The ice swirled before her, purple bled into the black. Suddenly, for a moment, a flash of light flickered before her. Then it was as if it were all around her. Lightning flashed, green and white; clear yet still as transparent as the reflection. The air began to hum softly. As the noise grew it took form, shaping itself into a morose little melody that rose and fell almost instantly. It wasn't like the tune she heard when she arrived but it made the forest around her glow a strangely dim pink – like a burning sunset on a cold day. The trees vaguely shifted into life for a moment, appearing to sway briefly in an imaginary breeze. The arms that extended protectively above her head seemed to reach for her, to hold her and defend her. Amy was overwhelmed with a sense of longing and pain, as if the song had touched a million broken souls.

It only lasted a moment and then a crack exploded in front of her. She reeled back in surprise. It was as if someone had just hit a window with a stone, but when she looked again the crack was gone. The ice was clear, and the forest was still and lifeless. The man hadn't noticed the sounds or the forest, only the crack. Amy forced a laugh. "I suppose you've already tried that?"

"Don't let it get to you," he said. "It's what this place does. Even something you do to try to help people turns against you."

"Does that mean there is no way out?" She muttered.

The man smiled. He walked off the ice and picked up her bag. "Come on. The day's getting on."


End file.
